“If I stepped inside, I’d probably get struck by lightning. Set the whole thing on fire.” Dash did a U-turn in the parking lot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to church.
In another five minutes, he was in another world on the south side of Whispering Pines, where one-story homes alternated with rundown trailers and empty lots. The mansions of Red Barn Road could’ve belonged to Rodeo Drive, for as far away as they seemed now. Most of the town lived from paycheck to paycheck, making the bills when they could and scrambling when they couldn’t. On Cornwall Road, he pulled up to the last house on the block, a dingy white ranch with black shutters. He parked in front of the garage and headed up the crumbling brick steps.
One twist of the key, a creaky push of the door, and he was home. Dash tried his best to keep the place clean, but it didn’t seem to matter since he was the only one living there. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and collapsed onto the couch. Eighteen months since he’d come back to Whispering Pines. Thirteen months since his mother had died of a stroke. Those five months before she died had been some of the best of his life, though he hadn’t realized it then. Now the house echoed with silence. Probably should put it on the market and use the money to beef up the gym. But somehow he couldn’t bear to sell the only place he’d ever called home.
He finished his beer and walked to the bigger of two bedrooms at the back of the house. The smaller one he hadn’t touched, and it remained a sewing room with pencil marks on one wall that measured his height from first to twelfth grade. He’d had to make the marks himself when he outgrew Ma at fourteen. On impulse, he flipped the light switch, illuminating piles of fabric, yarn, rubber bins filled with supplies, and a large crucifix on the wall. Dash stared at it for a long moment. Ma had attended St. Mary’s Catholic Church in town, but he’d stopped going with her sometime back in elementary school. For the first time, he wondered how different his life might have been if he hadn’t.
He turned off the light and headed into his bedroom. Blue walls, blue curtains, a queen bed left unmade and a closet full of workout clothes. Not much else. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto a pile that would eventually get washed.
He wondered what Sienna Cruz would think if she knew he still lived in his childhood home. Of course, lots of people did in Whispering Pines, for various reasons. He hadn’t thought twice about moving back in after returning from California. He’d needed a place to stay, his mother had needed a helping hand, and it had worked out well all the way around. In the bathroom, he started a shower and dropped his workout pants and boxers to the floor. One tattoo above his right elbow stood out in stark contrast to the others: no color, no design, just a single date and the words Never Again inked above it.
He stared at the letters and the numbers until his eyes watered. The memory of Edie mocked him all these years later. He knew she’d had a rough history when they first met. He thought that was the reason fate had brought them together, so they could ease each other’s hurt and build a life together. He’d realized too late that she was more interested in setting him up and stealing his money so she could build her life with someone else.
Dash tightened his hand into a fist. You put that tattoo there for a reason. Don’t let a woman mess up your head again. Didn’t matter that Sienna was as different from Edie as night from day. Didn’t matter that he’d changed, that he wasn’t the same punk who’d screwed up out west. He needed to stay single, stay focused, keep his feet on the straight and narrow path. That included not jumping into bed with every woman who walked into his gym. Or even the occasional intelligent, good-looking woman who walked into his gym.
Dash shook his head and stepped under the spray. There, he let the hot water ease the tension from his muscles and drive all thoughts of Sienna Cruz from his mind.
Chapter Four
“Who is that?” A thin boy with brown hair pointed at Sienna, his dark brows drawn together in concern. “Mrs. James, that is not our substitute teacher.” His words, prim and proper, sounded funny coming from the lips of an eight-year-old.
“You’re right, Caleb, this is someone brand new.” Jenny James, the principal of Whispering Pines Elementary School, stood with Sienna in the doorway of Room Eighteen. Jenny dropped her voice and leaned closer. “I didn’t tell the class they might have a new teacher until I was sure you’d take the job. They were with a substitute all last week.”
Sienna looked around the classroom. She’d be teaching preschoolers in London, a good deal younger than any of these students, but this would be good preparation. Two wide-eyed boys sat on the rug while the aide, a matronly woman with a double chin, read them a book. A boy with Down syndrome rocked in a chair near the window. The only girl in the room, her hair pulled into two tight braids, walked a careful circle around the rug. Heel touched toe in careful, mincing steps, and her fingers tapped together in a rhythmic cadence. She kept her eyes on the floor.
“Dawn has OCD, anxiety, and selective mutism,” Jenny said as the girl walked by. “Billy and Bailey are twins and developmentally delayed. Eight years old but at kindergarten levels for reading.” She pointed at the boy standing in the middle of the room. “Caleb is on the autistic spectrum, as far as we can tell. Asperger’s, I suspect, but his parents refuse to have him formally tested.”
Jenny walked to the child in the chair and patted his head. “And Silas is the lover boy of the class.” As if on cue, he jumped from the chair and ran to Sienna. He wrapped his arms around her legs and grinned up at her. Sienna grinned back and tried not to lose her balance.
Jenny clapped her hands together three times. “Room Eighteen, all eyes on me, please. This is Miss Cruz.” Jenny waited until they gathered around her in a haphazard semi-circle. “She’s going to be your teacher for the rest of the year.”
All the boys stared. “She’s pretty,” Silas said.
“Yes, she is,” Jenny answered. “She’s also smart and nice and can’t wait to be your teacher.”
Sienna smiled widely and hoped they couldn’t sense her fear. Accepting this job offer was one thing. Actually teaching for six months would be something else altogether. I’ve heard school kids can be tough. Without warning, Dash’s voice came into her head.
Then all of Dash came into her head: muscles and dimples and Max saying if you decide to give up that vow of celibacy, Dash would be the perfect person to show you the ropes. The thoughts hovered there, taking up space. What was wrong with her? It was like she’d never crushed on a guy before. Not like she was crushing on him. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. They’d met once. Worked out together once. And they were from completely different worlds.
Which would make him the perfect person to help you cross that item off your to-do list. She could snog him and go off to England a changed woman. No strings, no emotional attachments.
Jenny was saying something. “I’m sorry?” Sienna said, embarrassed. “My head’s all over the place this morning.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I know it’s a lot to take in.” Jenny motioned at the teacher’s desk in the corner. “There are lesson plans in the top drawer, and the students’ Individualized Education Plans are all in that file cabinet in the corner.” She produced a ring of keys from her pocket. “The large one is for the classroom, the silver one for the closet in the corner, and the small gold one for the two file cabinets.”